We're waiting for ya. Here's a poem.

Among the blossoms, a single jar of wine. No one else here, I ladle it out myself.

Raising my cup, I toast the bright moon, and facing my shadow makes friends three,

though moon has never understood wine, and shadow only trails along behind me.

Kindred a moment with moon and shadow, I've found a joy that must infuse spring:

I sing, and moon rocks back and forth; I dance, and shadow tumbles into pieces.

Sober, we're together and happy. Drunk, we scatter away into our own directions.

Intimates forever, we'll wander carefree and meet again in Star River distances